Don't Cry for Me Read Free Page B

shuddered. “If you had died, living without you wouldn’t have been possible.”
    Beth cupped the side of his cheek. “But I didn’t. All that’s in the past, and look at what a beautiful place Quinn has made here.”
    “Yeah, it suits him.”
    “Because of the solitude?” she asked.
    He nodded. “And the memories. This was Granddaddy Foster’s old homestead, remember? We loved coming here as kids. I think this is a good place for him to heal.”
    Beth frowned. “Do you think he will? Heal, I mean.”
    He shrugged. “He’s already healing, but who knows to what extent? War changes people. He’ll never be the same.”
    “But he’ll be the best Quinn that this Quinn can be.”
    Ryal smiled. “That’s for sure. He’ll never settle for less.”

Two
     
    I t had taken just under four hours for Quinn to reach Fort Campbell. Since it was the same hospital where he’d been sent after he was wounded and where he’d mustered out, he knew the base setup. He drove straight to the visitors’ center at Gate 4 to get a pass. Although he hadn’t been here in over three years, he had the weird feeling he’d never left.
    The feeling persisted as he drove through the base, and the closer he got to Blanchfield Hospital, the more his anxiety grew. By the time he pulled into the parking lot the skin on his body felt tight and hot. He resented the anxiety. It made him feel weak, and weak was not an option. This was about Conrad, not him.
    He got out of the car, checked the bed in the back one more time, making sure nothing had shifted out of place, and then made a call to Conrad’s doctor to let him know he was there. The doctor answered on the third ring.
    “Dr. Franks.”
    “Hello, Dr. Franks, this is Quinn Walker. I spoke to you a couple of days ago about having one of your patients, a Corporal Conrad, released to my care?”
    “Yes, yes, I remember.”
    “I’m here on base and in the parking lot at Blanchfield. How do I go about getting Conrad signed out?”
    “Hang on a sec, let me check,” Franks said, and put him on hold.
    As Quinn was waiting, a van drove up and pulled into a handicap parking space across from where he was standing. A woman got out, then circled the van and opened the side door. He glanced up just as a platform slid out, lowering a man in his wheelchair. Quinn’s gut knotted, and then he looked away, feeling guilty for being thankful that wasn’t him.
    When Franks came back on the line, Quinn’s focus shifted.
    “Mr. Walker, are you still there?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I remember you telling me you’d been a patient here before. Do you remember where Physical Therapy is located?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Conrad is there now. I’ll meet me you in PT in about fifteen minutes.”
    “Thank you, sir. I’ll be there.”
    Quinn dropped his phone in his pocket and headed into the hospital. Now that he was here, he was anxious to find out what he’d let himself in for.
    He headed for the bank of elevators, refusing to make eye contact with the people in the lobby. When he got on the elevator, he quickly turned his back on the other occupants and stared at the door, waiting for it to open. It was as if the past three years had never happened and he was still on crutches, with healing burns and scars that screamed Look at me! He was startled not only by the anxiety that he felt but also the insecurity. This hospital was not a good place to be.
    When he entered the physical therapy area, he was even more hesitant, eyeing the patients in various stages of rehabilitation. As he began scanning the room, looking for Conrad, he heard someone cursing.
    Quinn smiled. He’d just found his comrade.
    * * *
     
    “Damn, damn, damn, that effing hurts!”
    The physical therapist eyed the frown on his patient’s face. They had been working at this one exercise for nearly fifteen minutes and he knew Conrad was tired, but it took pain to get progress, and so he kept pushing, urging the wounded vet up and down